In truth we trust
by Ray103
Summary: What if you gave all of yourself and it wasn't enough - what else do you have left to give. An attempt at an ongoing story
1. Chapter 1

**In The Truth We Trust**

 _When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be. When I let go of what I have, I receive what I need_ – Lao Tzu

Jo absently tipped the pencil balancing on the edge of her desk to the floor.

Her mind was failing to focus, correction, had failed to focus on anything for the past three days. A steady stream of social deviants, murderers and thieves had distracted her, but not held her attention for longer than the immediate moment.

"Hey Jo", she gazed upward toward the voice.

"We're heading out for a drink – come along?" Hanson had hopefulness in his voice, which she knew was misguided.

"Thanks, but will give it a miss" she could feel him continuing to stand over her shoulder ", she tried ignoring him but he wouldn't go away. "Really I'm busy with …with..this", she quickly grabbed a file that was lying to her side.

"You are busy with the take out menu file, interesting"

"Look I just don't feel like a drink tonight ok"

"You don't feel like a drink, or you don't feel like a drink with Henry. What is going on with you two, for the past few days it's like you've both had the plague"?

"What! we're fine just leave it"

Her nerves were being tested. Hanson knew her well enough to know when to back off. She heard him turn and start to walk away, and then turn back and lean over towards her ear.

"Look I wont get into it, but if you need me to rough him up a bit, I mean if he's done something I know a few of the boys who could, well you know, explain to him how we do things here". A smile broke across her face, leaning forward she planted a kiss on his cheek. " Roughing up Henry is not required" she couldn't help but laugh at little at the image.

"Ok, if you're sure" heading to walk away he ran directly into the subject of conversation. "Dr Morgan", formalities clearly identifying his loyalties

"Detective, I apologize if I have interrupted anything" Henry had observed part of the exchange between the two officers, and though he was fully aware that the two were just friends, the intimacy of the moment had taken him aback.

Hanson quickly turned back toward Jo, his eyes asking her if she wanted him to stay. She nodded slightly for him to go.

Henry stood until Hanson had left the room. As the door shut, his attention moved to the woman before him.

"Stop Henry", she raised her hand slightly "I don't want to hear it – I'm going home"

"Jo, I think.. I want for us to talk"

"What you _want_ Henry is no longer a subject of concern. Your wants or needs or issues are not for discussion"

"Jo" He reached for her arm as she went to walk away. Saying nothing, yet looking directly at his hand, he quickly removed it, returning it to his pocket.

"No Henry, I trusted you", frustration tensed her body, breathing deeply so as not to yell "I… allowed myself to trust you and you tell me a story so ridiculous" she paused to collect her thoughts "I would never judge you, I…it doesn't matter. You would rather fabricate some tale of the impossible than tell me the truth. I don't have to deal with that".

He remained standing, head bent slightly down.

"I've requested another M.E, it shouldn't impact too much there is always enough work for two".

"Jo please this isn't…."

"Henry enough. Goodbye" Jo grabbed her bag and walked to the door, not looking around, he thought he could hear a slight intake of breath, not unlike crying.

To no one in particular Henry muttered, "I did tell you the truth"


	2. Chapter 2

The musty smell of discarded takeaway and alcohol welcomed her as she pushed the front door open to her house. Three days and the place looked like a squat for the homeless.

Exhausted she made her way to the sofa and ungracefully slumped into the pile of discarded wrappers that had accumulated near the pillows. Her foot kicked away an empty bottle. She couldn't understand it, opening up to Henry had been a risk, she knew that, but something about him had made sense. That was until he had turned up on her doorstep, dripping wet from the storm outside.

" _Henry – what are you doing here, look at you, you're saturated, come in before you catch your death" He had hesitated at her doorstep, looking back along the street, then stepped inside. Water trickled and pooled around his shoes. He seemed oblivious to his state, at which point she had assumed he had been drinking. She had been right, confirmed by a sudden lurch forward as he nearly fell._

" _Sit down, let me get you a towel"_

" _No Jo", he had grabbed her hand "I have to talk to you now, whilst I have the nerve to do so"_

" _Henry you are sopping wet, just wait there, and take off your jacket". She had wandered off muttering to herself how this man never seemed to look after himself. Fossicking through her laundry she found towels and an old robe of Sean's. This had given her a moment of pause. Holding the robe memories of her husband had drifted back. It seemed ridiculous to not allow Henry to use it, yet somehow she had felt she was cheating on him to give it to another man. That she was able, after a few moments to wrap it around Henry's shoulders spoke more to her about the man before her, his place within her life than any words spoken._

 _Henry had fallen silent again, looking down he wrung his hands before him, out of exasperation she had placed hers hands over his. Kneeling she asked him again "what are you doing here?"_

" _Jo…I ..you need to know something, about …about me, my life"_

 _It seemed to be a battle for the ridiculously articulate man to put two words together. She waited, holding his hands._

" _I don't know how to tell you, but", lifting his eyes to meet hers "but I want you to know, I think I need you to know". Removing his hands from hers, he ran them through his hair. "I …. I can't"_

" _What Henry?" Every part of her body wanted to hold him. Every part of her body wanted to tell him that it would be ok, that somehow he had infiltrated her skin. "Its ok… I trust you, let me in"_

" _Jo…I can't die"_

" _What?"_

" _Jo", he spoke very clearly, looking directly at her "I can't die"_

 _Jo sat back on her heels, removing her hands from his lap._

" _I'm sorry, what?"_

 _Braver now, alcohol drifting from his body, Henry leant forward. "It happened years ago, I wasn't sure I should tell you, but I feel now I can trust you, I can tell you" He reached up to stroke her face; his hand was slapped away with a violence that caused him to flinch._

" _How dare you", whispering at first her voice had risen quickly "How dare you come to my home, drunk! and then lie to my face, not even a lie, a…a…I don't even know what this is"_

" _Jo its not a lie, its true, please let me explain"_

" _I have shared with you about Sean, the pain – oh my god! Did that mean nothing to you, this is just cruel Henry, I never thought you could be cruel"_

" _Jo, I'm sorry, it …this wasn't mean to be like this"_

" _Get out of my home! – just get out" He stood, the robe around his shoulders falling to the ground. Leaning down she snatched it from the floor, holding it tightly in front of her. The guilt she had felt handing it to Henry washed over her, tears formed and fell. She had been yelling, almost hysterical._

 _A knock at the door snapped her attention from the man before her. Persistent knocking, again and again, try as she may to ignore it the person on the other side wanted to come inside. Looking from Henry to the entrance, she stormed through the corridor, flinging open the door. Abe stood before her._

" _Jo, I'm sorry I'm just wondering if you've seen Henry, he left over two hours ago, he wasn't well when he left"_

 _Abe had looked her directly in her eyes – saw her confusion, her hurt, her white anger misting up through her body._

" _He's had a lot to drink tonight"_

" _Get him out of here" she directed through gritted teeth "Get him out and don't bring him back ever!" Abe had moved inside, refraining from further comment. Henry had fallen back against the wall; shocked by Jo's response, though fully clothed he had never felt more exposed. He hadn't seen, couldn't see Abe. Hadn't felt him take him by the arm, move him towards the exit. The old man had struggled down her steps, half carrying him. Henry oblivious to his surroundings, head swimming, had tried to walk back up the stairs, and tried to explain. She had shut the door on both of them._

 _That night she had cried, for Sean, his memories that she had betrayed by feeling again about another. And for Henry for a future she had been teasing into existence, now shattered into shards, each tiny sliver cutting into her heart._

Curled tightly she noted a small piece of purple material poking out from under her pillow. Henry's scarf. She surmised he must of dropped it on the night he had fallen through her door. Pulling it out, her first response was to throw it in the bin. Sitting, running it through her fingers, she found she couldn't let it go.

For the first time in three days she finally found sleep, nestled into the sofa with a purple scarf wrapped about her hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Abe had virtually pushed Henry through the door on arriving at the Antique store, unsure if it was through frustration or exhaustion. He demonstrated little pity on the swaying man before him.

"I told her Abe, and she thought I was lying"

"That's what you think you did, you think you told her the truth? Henry you turned up drunk on her door-step and rambled incoherently, that is not telling her the truth"

The conversation had run in circles for the next hour until Abe had walked off stating that Henry was old enough to find his own way to bed. A number of stumbles, three broken vases and one potentially harmful fall proved Abe to be right. Collapsing into his bed, thoughts of Jo, the evening and future were lost in a swirling pattern of regret. Henry promptly vomited and then fell asleep.

The next day he had failed to appear until late afternoon, at which time Abe had softened a little in his view of the evening prior. Concocting a particularly potent hangover cure, he handed it is father with a slight grunt.

"Abe please", he grimaced – rolling onto his back, shielding his eyes from the sun filtering through the curtain. "Just let me lay here and die"

"Well after your performance last night I believe you may think that is a preferable outcome"

"I don't want to talk about it", so they hadn't, at least not until the next day when Hanson had called to request Henry's presence at a murder. He avoided asking why Jo had not called, though his surprise at Hanson's voice and his stumbling communication through the conversation may have alerted the officer to Henry's confusion.

"This is not going to be pleasant," Henry stated after hanging up the phone.

"Nor should it be Pops, you were a mess the other night, I'm surprised Jo didn't arrest you on drunk and disorderly"

Hanging his head, he spoke more to himself than to his son "It seemed so simple in my head. She is my friend, it seemed the right thing to do"

"But…" Abe continued to watch his Father

"But I got confused, I thought a drink would clear my mind. One glass for courage, and one glass for doubt, by the end I had lost count of whether I was incredibly brave for telling her or just incredibly stupid"

"The last time I saw you in that state was after Mum went missing, remember when you really hit the bottle hard. Got to say Henry it scared me a bit"

"I'm sorry Abe that type of behaviour is inexcusable"

"Then you were just gone, out the door, took me age to find out that you had headed to Jo's"

Henry's eyes squinted as memories began to peek back into his mind, a feint shade of red blushed across his cheeks.

"She's never talking to me again is she?"

"I would hazard a guess to say not in your immediate future, no, have you considered an apology"

"Abe, I could barely place to words together in a coherent fashion up until a few hours ago, apologizing to Jo, even if I thought it would help was, quite frankly beyond me" He paused for a moment, running his hand through his hair as another memory lurched into view.

"His robe"

"Excuse me?"

"At Jo's I remember now, it had his…. Ummm… Jo's husband's initials on it, she wrapped me in his robe to keep warm and I talked about not being able to die" Henry swallowed down a subtle sense of nausea.

Abe whistled an ominous tune before walking back into the kitchen.

Henry tightened the scarf about his neck; today would not be a good day.

The day had in fact proved to be neither good nor bad. He had arrived at the crime scene; Hanson and Lucas had greeted him with various theories on the death of the man before them. Each theory building on the incredibility of the last, Henry raised an eyebrow at their failure to see the obvious (a gunshot wound to the stomach), until he realised that they had been amusing themselves with parodies of his previous deductions.

It was not until the body was wrapped and removed that Henry ventured to ask Hanson as to Jo's whereabouts.

"She's at the station" he provided no further detail. Not to be deterred Henry attempted to prod for more information. Hanson mumbled vague details of case reports and file audits, then wandered back to talk to the local authorities. Henry spied Lucas, and walked over, again raising Jo's absence into conversation. Lucas was avoidant, though clearly torn. Lucas rarely was able to keep the most basic information contained, and given that it was information that Henry clearly wanted – Lucas did not take long to divulge what Henry had feared.

"I don't get it Henry, she just refused to come out. She actually asked if I could do the gig myself, it was Hanson who insisted you get called – now I think about it I should probably be insulted"

"Did she say why she didn't want to be here, or me here?"

"Nope, but was not happy and clearly did not want to talk about it" Lucas focused on removing his gloves before continuing "Its funny I kind of thought there was a little, I don't know…spark between you two, might have to get my love radar checked". He turned to Henry grinning, Henry had, however, already walked in the opposite direction, submerged in his own thoughts.

He had returned to the station the day had drifted with no contact from Jo. A further night of no phone calls, had Henry had slumping into a contemplative moroseness that Abe was unable to stir.

A new morning of routine – unbroken by the bounce of Detective Martinez, a painfully quiet afternoon, where Henry had daydreamed about killing himself to break the monotony had lead to the resolution to approach Jo and attempt to make amends for his unpardonable actions.

Which had him now standing at her desk, watching her walk out the door.

She had stated she wanted another M.E, what he had heard was that she did not want him, as a friend, as a partner as a …. He had shared with her his truth, albeit a drunken, hazy, slurred version of the truth – but the truth nonetheless, and she had rejected it.

Henry should have been happy, he had attempted so many times to find the answer to his riddle of how to die, and in her few words she had managed to kill a part of him that had just started to grow.


	4. Chapter 4

She missed him, she hadn't wanted to admit it – but there it was. When work couldn't distract her he entered her mind, nervously peeking around the corner of her subconscious. She tried to push him out with reviews of files, a bottle of whiskey, even an attempt at jogging (which had failed miserably, as every scarf in the city had decided to be out on the same day jolting him back into her psyche). Every effort to remove him only assisted in creating a keener felt absence that cut through her carefully constructed emotional barrier.

The M.E she had arranged, so as to avoid Henry, was annoying. Lucas had already devised several different ways to kill him and dispose of the body. It was a little unnerving the zealousness with which he described the potential murderous acts, yet she had willingly listened to his theories, before providing obligatory chastisement.

She had left work early, yet another theory involving consuming boiled body parts to hide evidence had brought her to a breaking point. Of course Henry had been absent though out this discussion. Lucas mentioned that he had been in earlier, though had barely spoken and retreated to his office. Around 2pm Lucas advised that Henry had excused himself and left the building, he had not been not heard from again.

Peering over at the clock next to her bed, she watched as the hands struggled to move forward. It was well after midnight. She lay upon her bed, tracing small cracks in the ceiling with her eyes, trying hard to back track recent events to where it had all fallen apart.

Henry had come to her, ridiculously drunk, on the one-year anniversary of Sean's death. Not only had he staggered through her door, dripped over her floor, he had made absurd claims of not being able to die. Claims made whilst wrapped in her dead husbands clothing. Surely it was only reasonable that she had thrown him out. Of course Henry would not have known the date, she hadn't shared it with anyone – except for Hanson who had been at the office on the day of the call. She hadn't technically lied, therefore maintaining higher moral ground than Henry – though she had not disclosed all of the truth. "I am not the one under scrutiny here", she reminded herself.

She recalled seeing Abe struggle to help Henry down the stairs, especially when he had fought to try and come back inside. The scene was pathetic, his pleading which had almost broken her resolve, but then how could she back down. He had lied to her, and in the cruellest possible way. It caused her brain to ache, an ache which had refused to leave her body, during the days that followed.

She rolled over to face the clock again; somehow the hands had dragged themselves to 3.45am. Rubbing her eyes, she considered her options of attempting to sleep, or just give into the insomnia, which had made itself her companion. Tomorrow, she meant today she was not rostered on to work – the absence of commitment made up her mind.

"Damn it", groaning she sat up, lumbered towards her wardrobe, grabbing jeans and jumper. Shrugging into her winter coat she made her way to the front door. It was nearly 4am on a cold New York evening. "What are you doing Jo?" she muttered to herself, whilst checking her gun concealed under multiple layers. She was not a complete idiot and though her area was considered relatively safe there were known to be the odd crazy person wandering around the streets in the early hours of morning. "Henry Morgan", she said his name as an accusation as she made her way down her stairs. "You frustrating, lying, bastard", she tightened her coat against the cold "why the fuck does it matter to me so much that you aren't here".

An hour later she found herself hunched over a coffee at the front doors of the local library, recently opened 24 hours a day to accommodate the University exam period. It had been quite some time since she had meandered through walls of books, except for, of course, with Henry – always with Henry recently. Not really sure what she was looking for, she casually strolled over to a young attendant, whose head was firmly placed in the sleeping position at his desk.

"Ummm…" she cleared her throat and tried again "Umm excuse me. Can you help me?"

"What?" he lifted his face to look at her, eyes half shut against the neon lights.

"Big night?" she mused

"We have to volunteer, its part of our Uni requirements", the young man was talking more to the desk than to Jo "I haven't been home, I think I'm dead".

"Oh ..Ok really big night then. Look I'm not sure what I'm actually looking for"

"Are any of us?" he responded – Jo was fast realising that the conversation was not going anywhere fast.

"Sure, probably not – anyways….if someone wanted to know more about, I don't know, maybe psychological conditions, where might they look"

He waved in the general direction towards the back of the room.

"Thanks for that, you've been help….well you …well I hope you get some sleep", he responded with a gentle snore.

She wandered along the shelves, noting how various homeless persons and what appeared to be lovers, or at least amorous recent aquaintances, had made the most of the establishment. "Really", she thought, gazing a one young couple obviously making the most of the Latin section "that's just wrong", though she maintained viewing for several more seconds until the couple realised they were being watched and moved to Great Architecture of the 18th Century.

Jo had studied Psychology briefly at University; she had not taken it further than her undergraduate studies. She had thought that it would help her with profiling in her later years as a police officer.

"Lets see ….Psychology… in sport, motivational psychology, psychoanalysis ..uh ha Delusional Disorder in Psychology" Pulling the book down from the shelf, she settled into one of the larger lounge chairs to the side.

"Let see if you really are crazy Dr Morgan" she began to thumb through the pages.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

He understood frustration and even publically allowed occasional demonstrations of annoyance, however anger, in its purest form was an emotion he had long considered removed from his repertoire. Time coupled with experience had, he believed, evolved him beyond such a pointless emotion.

So it was quite a shock to both he and Abraham when a throwaway comment made by his son in relation to Jo and the concept of "friends with benefits" escalated to a full-blown argument resulting in Henry directing Abraham to his room. Abe's laughter had Henry's attempt at discipline failing miserably only increasing the tension within the shop.

The evening had been conducted in silence, until Abe, tired of his Father's (what he considered) self indulgent moodiness had excused himself and retired. Henry had remained up for a further four hours. His son, besides the somewhat inarticulate and obtuse way of describing his relationship with Jo had hit upon some valid points, which continued to gnaw at his thoughts…

 _Jo was his friend, was being the operative word. He had convinced himself that the relationship had been cracked beyond repair with his ridiculous antics from the previous night. So careful throughout his life, the impetus for his action was still a mystery to him. If he tracked his thoughts back there seemed to be some correlation with his need to disclose his truth and the sight he had witnessed of Jo talking to one of the new officers recently transferred from an outer borough precinct. She had not seemed particularly interested in the enthusiastic young man, who had been talking in an incessant manner, however when Henry had requested her attention he had been required to physically intervene by taking Jo by the arm to gain it. Jo had provided Henry with a polite amount of interest and then had refocused on the recruit, an action that had oddly irritated him. Henry had remained in the office for a short time after, and then proceeded to the bar where he had accompanied Jo in the past, it was there that his drinking had begun, but not stopped. Staggering slightly back to the Antique store he had demanded Abe open one of the finer bottles of cognac (if one is to drink one must drink in style) – he vaguely remembered himself stating. Soon after he had again disappeared out the door, blurry but determined to share his story._

 _The evening had gone into a steady decline. What had it been about the interaction between the two police, which had disconcerted him? He vaguely remembered similar uneasiness when witnessing Jo with Isaac during Hanson's impromptu performance. He had experienced an unusual tightness across his chest had when she had pulled Isaac into a kiss. On review it made no sense, Jo was his friend, he wanted her to be happy, why then when she appeared about to take that plunge, did he wish to step her back from the precipice._

When sleep refused to comfort him, he had chosen to go for a walk, now finding himself before what appeared to be an all night library. The walk had assisted him to find resolve with Abe, and held every intention of surprising him with croissants and fresh coffee – too early to surprise Abe with breakfast, Henry chose to enter the building to fill in an hour with idle research. It was not Henry's expectation to see Jo, sitting amongst a pile of books at the far end of the room. She appeared completely immersed in her readings. Henry stood and watched for a few moments, then chastised himself for his adolescent behavior. She had made it clear at the office that she held not wish to speak to him, as such he turned to leave.

"Henry!"

"SHHHHHHH!"

Forgetting momentarily where she was, Jo had reacted to the sight of him. Lowering his head to cover embarrassment, Henry walked over to her table.

"What are you doing here Henry?"

"I could ask the same of you…Psychology?", he took a book from her pile, flicking through the pages, though only vaguely noting the content.

"I umm….just needed to follow something up, why are you here?"

The tip of his tongue was about to roll into an elaborate explanation.

"I had a fight with Abe", the simplicity of the truth felt good.

"Oh…about"

The truth slipped out again, much to Henry's chagrin "You"

"Oh"

"But, its resolved now, so obviously you would prefer not to be disturbed so I'll leave you"

Her hand on his arm interrupted his walk away.

"Henry", she loosened her grip when she knew she had his intention. "will you sit with me, I want to tell you something"

Henry didn't ask, strangely pleased that she would even want to say hello to him, given recent events. He pulled out a chair and sat quietly beside her. Her head was turned slightly from his, he could see her eyes close and then a slight bite of her lower lip as she composed her words. It was subconscious, he knew that, her lip biting. She didn't know that something in that action stirred a want in him to protect her, to feel her close to him.

"When you came to my house the other night"

He reddened slightly with the memory.

"You said something that I reacted to", she faced him fully now "no please don't say anything…you said you couldn't die, and you said it on the night of the one year anniversary of the death of", now a tear was forming, in the corner of her eye. "One year anniversary of the death of Sean", she breathed in sharply to stop herself from crying.

Thought left Henry as he reached across the table to take her hand.

"Jo…I'm so sorry, if I had…."

"If you had known, yes I didn't really tell anyone, it was private – I didn't want to share, but I've been sitting here for", she briefly glanced at her watch "too long, thinking – it wasn't right what you said, but it wasn't right for me to react like that".

"Jo, I was obnoxious and unthinking. I was acting like a self indulgent child, you had every right to be angry with me, to remain angry with me, I barged into your life "

"Told me a lie"

"No!" he looked too quickly into her eyes to create a deception.

She sat back in her chair, removing her hands from his "so you still maintain it is the truth"

"Jo this isn't the place, maybe no where is, I will go. Thank you for sharing with me, it means a great deal"

Standing to leave she asked another question taking him by surprise "do you still love Abigail?"

"Excuse me?"

"You talk of her with such fondness, do you still love her"

"Yes", he murmured, remaining with his back to her

"Did you tell her that you couldn't die"?

"I didn't tell her directly, but she knew….she believed me", he turned back to face her. "She believed me, and I loved her for that"

"Did she ask for proof?"

"She didn't need any", it wasn't a lie, she had not needed to procure proof as proof had stood in front of her. "Anyway Detective it is good to see you are keeping up with your readings" he deflected from current conversation. "I may see you in the office at some stage"

"Shut up Henry"

"Excuse me"

"I said Shut Up, damn it Henry if I have to be the bigger person here I will be… I have missed you, it doesn't make sense, you acted like an ass, you violated my personal space, and you dripped on my rug! but I miss you and a little bit of myself hates me for that"

"Jo I don't know what…"

"Look I don't expect you to…."

"I have missed you too", he ventured a smile that was greeted by a quirk of her mouth.

"What do we do?" she panned her hand over the books on the table "I've read about your condition, Delusional disorder, you can have a normal life, so you're not really crazy, I don't think"

"That's what you've been reading?"

"Henry I'm just trying to make sense of it, why you would say something like that"

Initially indignant to her claims that he was subject to a mental disorder, a warmer feeling filtered through him of compassion. She had spent the better part of the night trying to find a rationale of understanding so that she could see a way where she could still maintain a connection with him without running screaming from the room. Granted her actions were misguided, but he noted they were actions of good intent.

"Do you enjoy freshly baked croissants, brewed coffee with a hint of cinnamon?"

"Depends who I am sharing them with", he reached down and pulled her up from her chair.

"Come home with me Jo", he paused, she was biting her lip again, but this time accompanied by a glint in her eye that caused a shudder of affection, bordering on arousal.


	6. Chapter 6

The mug had cooled in her hands. The heat of the liquid poured to calm her mood had slowly leeched into the atmosphere, leaving a cold and slightly tasteless coffee, not that it mattered; drinking coffee was the furthest thing from her mind.

Henry was pacing before her, twisting his hands, stopping momentarily then continuing to walk. This had been the routine for the past 30 minutes. On arrival Abe had greeted them at the door, enthusiastically hugging Jo as she entered. She had been a little taken aback by his actions, however the genuineness of the act softened her initial rigidity.

He had asked all the appropriate questions as to how she had been, what she had been recently up to. It seemed he was deliberately avoiding Henry's drunken assault on her house, until the conversation had lagged in its niceties. The silent pause allowed time for Abe to consider his words.

"So you've decided to forgive Henry for his appalling display" he made it has a statement rather than a question.

"The jury's still out", she glanced at Henry standing off to the right, fidgeting (it appeared to her) through a stack of photo albums on his bookshelf. "But I think that we have both behaved badly". Henry looked up from the shelves "though some of us worse than others" she whispered in a dramatic stage manner behind her hand towards Abe.

"You have a good heart Jo, I'm pleased you're giving him a second chance". Abe finished off his croissant, placing the empty plate into the sink. "Now if you don't mind I have a young lady of my own to meet".

Abe had left them alone, his absence creating a hole that neither appeared able or willing to fill. Henry had started to pace, and he hadn't stopped.

"Henry, you asked me back here to talk, so sit down and talk to me, please I want to understand what's going on with you" and under her breath murmured "with me as else". She looked up the man before her, agitated, nervous. She was confused and it frustrated her. Only a few days ago she swore to never speak to him again, she had made every attempt to avoid him and yet here she was on his couch, waiting always waiting for Henry. Enough was enough and after what seemed like his hundredth pass by she moved to leave. An incessant buzzing from her phone halted her departure.

"Martinez"

Henry looked on, worried by the sudden change in Jo's disposition from annoyance at the interruption to genuine concern. Hanging up the call she looked at Henry.

"I'm sorry I have to go"

"But.."

"Henry, there is sniper near the precinct, there are already two officers down. I have to get to Hanson immediately"

Henry confused placed his hand on her shoulder to stop her from standing. "Jo surely you need to stay away from the area, its far too dangerous for you to go"

"Henry, this is my job. Hanson is with Reece at a separate location, we need to co ordinate to stop this guy. Its bad enough that police have been targeted, there is nothing to say civilians won't be next". The concern, or maybe fear in his eyes settled her for a moment. "I will be fine, there's a plan in place to take the shooter out, but I need to be there".

"No!" his sudden authority shocked her enough to stop her moving forward.

"Excuse me"

"I mean you can't go without me"

"This is far too dangerous Henry, besides you might do something stupid like stand in front of bullet, you have been known to make bad decisions", she smiled but the urgency to leave was pulling her towards the door.

"Jo I really think I should come with you"

At this she stopped, placing her hand upon his chest. "Henry I'm sorting stuff out in my head", she sighed " I don't know what is going on here" she gestured between herself and Henry "but I know I don't want you anywhere you could get hurt, please respect my wishes Henry, just once do as I ask"

Her hand remained briefly, and then moved to his scarf, absently running her fingers across the weave trying to imprint the feel upon her fingers. "I promise I will see you soon as this is sorted out, you can finish your story, well at least start your story then" distracted by her nervous attempt at humour she was taken off guard by the sudden tug of his hands upon her waist pulling her to him. His mouth close to her ear "I don't want you to go", he whispered.

"I wont leave you", she responded, risking a hand upon his cheek, stroking his beard, surprisingly soft on her skin. "Now let me go and do my job". Every fibre of her body wanted to remain, Henry's forehead buried in her neck, the length of his body encompassing hers, holding her in a warm security she was fearful of losing. She pulled away, moments from forgetting her responsibilities and yielding completely to his request.

She stepped back to open the door "Henry I promise you, I'll be fine, stay here – I'll call you", then remembering previous attempts "please keep your phone on the hook". And then she left.


	7. Chapter 7

Hanson had wanted to hit something, preferably someone but given he was constrained by a hospital waiting room the likelihood him exacting physical harm was limited.

Initially Henry had been his target, his stupid act of heroics had caused a chain reaction resulting in Jo being rushed into emergency surgery. When he allowed time to reflect he realized that without Henry's actions he would probably now be pacing the morgue. The thought of this, what the outcome could have been stilled his need to punch something, however still caused barely restrained frustration to flex his fists as he walked from corner to corner.

He thought back to earlier today, Jo hadn't seen the gunman. Attempting to usher people out of the way, she had been distracted. No one had realized that she had removed her vest to place over the chest of a child whom had been too scared to move from hiding behind the bins. She should have been away from the area at the control centre; miscommunication had placed her right in the middle of the fracas. Henry had noticed, yelling at Jo to move, he had thrown himself at her at the sound of the gunshot. He had been hit; the bullet had gone straight through his side – missing all vital organs. Jo had fallen, hitting her head against the gutter. Hanson believed he could hear the crack of her skull as she fell.

From that moment it was a whirl of screaming, gunshots, color and panic. Police had moved en masse. Had the gunman thought he had a chance of an escape, that thought was quickly lost. He had been surrounded within seconds of the shot. No one knew how, but in the scuffle his arm had been broken. Hanson could remember seeing Henry crawl over to Jo, yelling for assistance. It seemed out of context that he would be in the middle of the chaos, but Hanson had no time to ask questions.

A nurse's call for assistance across the hallway roused him back to the present. He cradled his coffee, peering at the swirling foam. He raised his eyes to consider the hunched figure opposite him. Henry had been inconsolable on arrival at the hospital, demanding to see Jo he had to be physically restrained at one point. Blood was pouring from his body, the pain must have been excruciating, yet he appeared oblivious. Finally sedated he had whimpered as the nursing staff lowered him to his bed. Now five hours later he had demanded release from his hospital bed to wait outside surgery. Medical staff had reluctantly obliged, stating he could remain there only if stayed contained to the wheelchair and didn't raise his voice. Henry had contritely obliged providing reassurances of staying in place, and then he had fallen silent.

Hanson looked over at him, twisting his hands. Abe had arrived – attempted to usher him back into his room, failing miserably. Hanson hadn't previously noticed, given he had not had a lot of contact with the two of them in the same space, how the interaction between the two seemed out of synch. It reminded him of last year when his son had been too sick to go to school, however had insisted on getting up to watch his siblings get on the bus. The discussion echoed that, with roles reversed. Abe sounded like a son pleading rather than holding the directive tone of a parent. Henry on the other hand seemed disrespectful in his attitude towards the old man, taking the more authoritative voice. Maybe it was an English thing, Hanson had mused. Thoughts of his partner lying in the next room, veering alternatively between death and life, had bubbled back into his mind. The eccentricities of Henry and his friend faded from his mind.

Lucas was pacing, completely lost, obviously wanting to console Henry, yet like a nervous pup too afraid to approach for fear of being bitten. Henry was a picture of barely contained rage, wrapped loosely in fear and sadness. Lucas had decided to bring Hanson a coffee, now only a tepid mix of brown water and sediment, as some gesture of support. It was only recently that Hanson had even known that the young ME existed, never really acknowledging him. He had tried to remain as far from the city morgue as possible. It had only been Jo's relatively recent interest in the dead, or at least the doctor to the dead that had exposed him to Lucas. He liked him, and wanted him to feel better about being useless in the current situation, accepting the coffee had been a small, yet appreciated gesture.

Hanson remained opposite Henry, still not quite able to talk to him. An odd dynamic was being played out in the waiting area, between the two men – neither being Jo's husband or lover, yet both somehow intimately enmeshed in her life.

Hanson had been, still remained Jo's partner. He had seen her through many years of battling prejudice, and misogyny to be accepted as an equal in the department. He remembered the early days of furtive glances at a young DA, before finally being brave enough to ask him out. Their marriage, his death, the funeral, Hanson had been present, for all her moods, and her gradual crawl into an emotional cave of isolation.

Through all that, she has still sought him out as a support. He didn't love her, not romantically, yet he did feel deeply for her enough to want to protect her.

Then Henry had arrived, and somehow, slowly, she had started to take a step out of the darkness she had been in. Little steps, but steps nonetheless. He wasn't quite sure if Henry knew what he was doing, he was sure Jo had no idea. The first time she had openly laughed, with genuine warmth had been whilst Henry was present. A small sliver of jealousy had stabbed him in the side, and then melted away. If Henry was doing, whatever he did, deliberately to take advantage he would have hit him. Creating vulnerability in Jo and then exploiting it could not be tolerated. Over time Hanson had realized Henry had no real idea of what he was doing, he obviously cared for Jo and seemed to trust her, as much as Henry seemed able to trust anyone. As for consciously manipulating her emotions, he had concluded Henry was incapable of such an action. He was probably the most intelligent man that Hanson had ever met, though in relation to understanding emotional self, Henry appeared to be a little naive.

A slight cough to attract attention was heard by both men, as they raised their heads in unison. A slightly built nurse with blond hair was standing before them, looking from the one to the other she asked "next of kin?"

"Partner", they chorused.

"Oh, well the doctor is able to see you….both? in just a moment"

Hanson and Henry remained standing, waiting, both feeling like vomiting yet neither able to speak.


	8. Chapter 8

Dr Carter was well versed in providing news, both good and bad. Many years working in the profession had trained her to read the faces of those who paced the floor in the waiting room. In only moments of meeting a family she could assess how her news would be taken, if there would be tears, anger or stony walls of silence.

In this instance she quickly assessed anger, frustration and worry, a potentially volatile mix. She took a deep inward breath, and took note of placement of security. Though she was aware that police officers waited for news, she was unsure of their ability to maintain professional etiquette.

"Hello, my name is Doctor Carter – I've been looking after Detective Martinez"

A room of eyes turned to focus upon her. There were two primary targets pronounced amongst the others. One clearly another officer, pale blue eyes concentrating upon her every word, unnerving but contained. The other she couldn't place, he didn't have the feel of the police, well dressed, yet of the two the more unpredictable. She chose to focus on the steely blue as opposed to the swirling brown.

Hanson stepped forward introducing himself.

"I'm Jo's partner, I mean work partner – what news do you have?"

"I won't lie", the Doctor began "it was rough for awhile, she sustained significant head trauma from the fall, the angle and impact culminated in swelling that needed to be contained".

Lucas sat back into his seat, hands running through his hair. Reece fumbled briefly with her cup, before composing herself. Hanson raised his shoulders silently requesting by his actions and explanation.

"You induced a coma", the man with the dark brown, brooding eyes finally spoke from the corner.

"Yes", Doctor Carter turned finally to acknowledge Henry "it was our only option, unless the swelling goes down there could be irreparable brain damage"

"How long?" no civil niceties were provided by Henry, he needed information, quickly and detailed. The others had fallen silent, allowing Henry to ask their questions.

"It is unknown at this time, we will continue to monitor and any improvement will mean we can relax the treatment, for now though, she will remain as she is"

"Can we see her?" Hanson ventured

"I'm sure that can be arranged, maybe just one at a time"

"Will she know we're there?" this time it was Lucas from his seat at the back of the room.

"I'm not sure", the doctor answered honestly. "There is research to indicate those in a coma can hear you, even anecdotal stories of people saying they have heard conversations. I personally feel it can do no harm for someone to know that those who care about them, are waiting for them to get better. I'll organise for the nurse to take each of you to her"

She left soon after, as a doctor she was in demand, and those who waited had enough information to digest the moment. She'd call back in a couple of hours to check on them. Leaving she again noted the brown eyed man leaning against the wall, obviously injured in the incident resulting in the detective lying in a coma, he sat apart from the others. He appeared out of place, and though more subdued than when she had entered she decided to keep a close eye on his actions.

A nurse soon appeared as requested and ushered each of them into Jo's room. Tears were repressed as each entered and spoke briefly to Jo passing wishes of good will through teeth gritted with grief.

Abe stood to follow, then veered to Henry's side.

"You are going to go and see her, aren't you" it wasn't so much a question as a direction.

"To say what Abe? I only though of what was important to me, and in doing so you are lying in a coma"

"You could say you want her to get well, cause there is still so much you want to share with her"

"Abraham I caused this, everyone knows. Hanson wanted to punch me, and he should have, I deserve it".

For the first time in many years Abe's voice lowered, tensed and took on a sternly paternal tone "You", he pointed at Henry " _WILL_ go and see Jo, and will do anything that needs to be done to see her through this. You _WILL NOT_ fall apart into a self indulgent mess, I am not joking Henry, and this is not about you!"

Roles briefly reversed, Henry grabbed his son's hands and held them. "Thank you Abe"

"I'm going to go in and give her my wishes, then head off. I'll be back in the morning to collect you". It had completely escaped Henry's mind that he was currently a patient of the hospital and not just a visitor.

"Yes of course, I'll be in soon"

Abe made his way down the corridor whilst Henry moved to the nurse's desk. After much negotiating and basic pig headedness Henry managed to have the staff agree for him to remain the night in Jo's room. Generally against hospital guidelines, he had been able to argue that given the lateness of the hour, his inpatient status and likelihood of making his way to her room anyway that staying with Jo during the night was a reasonable request. The two nurses at the desk were not inclined to argue, it was late and both were tired.

So now he sat. Holding her hand, a blanket draped over his shoulders. The only sound the gentle beat of the heart monitor, and the lightness of her breathing. A couple of times he had nearly dozed stirred awake by his head dropping to his chest.

He was unsure what inspired him to start speaking, then again by his own admission he had difficulties in being silent. Of more interest in later months would be the content of what would be his confession to her that surprised him.

"No matter what I feel for you, I'm not sure I would be brave enough to tell you the truth when you wake up" lowering if voice "if you wake up, so whilst you sleep tonight I will tell you everything"

Gripping her hand a little tighter, he settled into the chair. Clearing his throat he began "My father owned a slave ship", starting with the worst possible scenario, he felt, may soften the more bizarre elements of his tale.

He outlined his time aboard the ship, the gunshot and subsequent resurrection. He provided graphic detail of his time incarcerated after Nora had run scared from him. The degradation of mental institutions of that time, the fear he had experienced. The treatments concocted for his "health" were more akin to torture. He had begged for death, and been deliberately denied, his hands for many months tied behind him, being forcibly fed to keep him alive. Even the basic dignity of going to the bathroom on his own denied him for fear of him taking his own life. Nora had visited, watched him, cried for him and then left, left him alone to rot in his own accumulating filth.

He had had to pause after that chapter of his life; the memories had turned his stomach. Yet Henry continued, throughout the night, never releasing Jo's hand. During that time his past, present and tentatively explained future was shared with Jo. Silent throughout, her lack of reaction – either positive or negative – allowed him to open his soul. How its actions had lead to success and the equal number of events where it had caused him unbearable shame.

"I was young then, comparatively, only a hundred years or so – I felt invincible. So I pushed limits. Jo?" he waited before continuing to see if there had been any change to her presentation. Her chest continued to rhythmically rise and fall, her breath – shallow yet consistent reassured him enough to continue.

" I slept with a lot of women, I slept with a couple of men", he had forgotten that and surprised himself with the memory " I took a lot of drugs and hurt a great number of people. I am not proud of this time, but I think it's important that you understand that I had to reach the lowest point before I could turn things around. I suppose, poetically speaking" he smiled really only to himself "you could say I danced with the devil for a number of years. Being immortal can do that to a person, perspective is lost. The reality of what is risked becomes obscured. Then I met Abigail, and then we found Abe. Both of them proved to be a saving grace to me and though I'm not a religious man both of them entering my life I see as a form of retribution, a second chance".

Jo's lack of response appeared to embolden Henry, who went into even greater detail of his lives and subsequent deaths. Even he began to notice, as he listed each one, how many times he had died. He mused that he must be the unluckiest man alive, or dead – again he smiled at his own joke.

Dawn arrived at the same time as the story of Henry's most recent passing, his encounter with Adam and the closeness of Jo discovering the truth.

He was exhausted, his eyes heavy and the pain in his side had returned as the medication had slowly drained from his system. As he went to stand, every bone is his body protested the action, screaming at him to sit again. He shuffled towards the bathroom; hand on the knob of the door. Turning back to watch her sleep, he could have sworn he saw the flicker of her eyelids against the shards of sunlight beaming through the bottom of the blind.

Then again it could just have been the delirium caused by lack of sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

It was Abe who had been sitting beside Jo's bed when she finally woke up. Reading the obituaries, glasses low on the end of his nose, his face obscured by the paper, a few minutes passed before he realised her attempts to gain his attention.

A slight flicker of her eyelids, a subtle lift of a finger, finally a strained painful cough stirred him into action.

"Jo..Jo Oh my goodness JO!" jolting upright momentarily confused about what to do next, hugging her, grabbing a nurse, yelling for joy all happened simultaneously. Nurses ran into the room, quickly ushering him out whilst they responded to their patient.

Hanson arrived just as Abe was pushed out the door. He fell into him has he had tried to enter Jo's room.

"She's awake!" Abe beamed. Hanson immediately grabbed him, embracing him tightly.

"When, how?"

"I don't know she just…she just woke up!"

"I've got to see her" leaving Abe standing in the corridor he ran into her room. He was there for only a few moments before he too was steered to the door.

Both men moved to chairs nearby, watching the quick progression of medical staff shooting in and out of the room. In what seemed like forever Doctor Carter emerged to greet them.

"She's awake, she's responding well, the swelling has almost gone completely. At this time a full recovery is expected".

The sigh escaped from both.

"Jo will stay here for a couple of weeks, for observation, however at this time I am not expecting complications. She will be very tired, so I'm _limiting_ her visitors", her last comment was made with a menacing tone of a warning not to be taken lightly.

"Go Hanson, I need to find a decent cup of tea, I'll check in on her a bit later"

He smiled thanks and then bounced into her room.

By the time Abe had located his beverage, and returned Hanson was leaving. Heeding the words of the Doctor he had only stayed long enough to see for himself that Jo had indeed woken up.

"She's pretty tired, but I think she would be happy to see you"

"Thanks", Abe sipped his tea and made his way into her room.

There she lay, perfectly still. The intermittent beeps of her heart monitor interrupting the silence. He shuffled further in, torn between making enough noise to wake her and keeping as quiet as possible to let her sleep. He noticed a slight change in her position as she brought her face around towards his.

"Abe, is Henry here?" her voice so low he had to bend closer to hear her.

"Yes, he's here, he's been right beside your bed for the past few days"

"Oh, did he die?" talking obviously hurt her throat. Abe looked at her oddly then continued, "no he was hit by a bullet, it was a nasty shot, but he's ok. He was treated, but somehow whilst he's been here the wound became infected" her, brows briefly furrowed with worry, then calmed. "Don't worry Abe, he'll be ok" she gestured to come closer "he cant die"

Abe fell back into the seat beside her.

"Um …sure, well he didn't and he's fine", faltered Abe, giving her a confused look, but deciding not to question her comment. The poor girl had just come out of a coma; he didn't think she knew too much of what she was saying.

"I'm going to see Henry now, you rest"

"mmmm …rest", she turned slightly and fell back into slumber.

Abe immediately made a beeline for Henry's room. He had wanted Henry's secret to be told to Jo, but not whilst she was in a coma, when she couldn't really understand what was going on. Then it dawned on him – this was probably exactly why Henry had chosen that time. Abe grunted his disapproval, he loved his father but he could be a complete ass at times.

The door to Henry's room was closed as he strode up; swinging it open with surprising vigour he immediately eyeballed his father with a stern judgemental glare.

"You told her, didn't you!"

Henry reading, taken aback by his son's sudden intrusion, he lost his grip on his book, which fell loudly to the floor.

"What? Abe told who what?"

"I've just been in Jo's room, she made a comment that you couldn't die! Dad what did you do?"

"I uh…well ok yes I told her, I was sitting by her bed, it was unknown if she would get through the night. I didn't want her to leave me without knowing the whole truth"

"A truth, no doubt that she thinks is just a dream. So what you think that lets you off the hook"

"Abraham, please", Henry's head, heavy with medication and self-doubt fell to his chest. "I've told her, please let us leave it at that for the moment….How is she?"

"Barely awake, Dr Carter is impressed though – said she is out of the woods"

"Thank God", Henry whispered, more to himself.

Abe pulled over a chair and flopped into it, exhausted by the day.

"So what now" his son was agitated, tired and just a little bit angry about the events of the past few days. It had taken a toll on him, which he was only now realising. Every fibre in his body creaked as he moved, his head ached and his eyes were barely able to remain open.

"Abraham have you slept?" Henry's concern shifted momentarily from Jo to his son. "You need to go home and rest"

"Henry I'm fine…I'm just", he attempted to shift in his seat, eliciting a small groan.

"Abraham is Lucas or Hanson here, if so please have them take you home, I don't want you driving. I will consider what you have said and will work out the best plan to address it, but not tonight – please I beg you, go home and sleep, I will still be here in the morning"

Fate chose to intervene at that moment with Lucas peering around the corner of the door into the room.

"Hi Doctor Morgan, have you heard the good news?"

"Yes, thank you Lucas. Lucas could you do me a favour and drive Abraham home"

"Henry really I'm fine"

"Abraham you are exhausted", Henry looked over to Lucas silently requesting assistance in encouraging his father to return home.

"Come on Abe", Lucas leaned over to help the old man up from his chair. "I was heading your way anyway"

Abe was too tired to argue, he stood and stumbled slightly against Henry's bed. Lucas grabbed him by the arm to steady him. Henry noticed for the first time how age had engulfed him. He felt a slow wash of sadness as Abraham shuffled towards the door.

Leaning back into his pillows he reviewed his actions. It had seemed right to tell Jo everything, every miniscule detail of his survivals. It seemed even more right to do so when she was in no position to rebuke or run away. So wrapped up in his need to share his life he hadn't really considered how her mind may have processed the information. The thought of going to her, explaining how it had been his only option, crossed his mind then quickly frittered away. She would be well soon, and he would be gone.

Jo's dreams entertained a peaceful procession of multiple Henry's. Her brain attempted to argue the illogic of it, yet another part of her pushed the argument away. Henry was a constant that she craved, and now, at least in her dreams her cravings were indulged.


	10. Chapter 10

"Abe where is he?", she felt like throttling the old man as he deliberately evaded her questions.

"Henry? well he's I'm sure he's around umm not at work?"

"Don't! You know very well he hasn't been into work since I returned. Lucas keeps mumbling about him taking 'personal' time. Personal time for what!"

"Jo, I'm sorry, he said he needed some time away – I don't know how long he will be gone"

Her frustration was brimming. She ready to explode, yet seeing the old man sitting calmly with his tea she became aware that it was not Abe she was angry at. Unclenching her fists she blurted out "He knows I know, doesn't he and he's run away scared"

"Knows what?" Abe feigned ignorance.

Jo did not bother to answer, preferring to look directly at Abe accusingly. Under the scrutiny he folded, though his resolve had been weak from the start. He had encouraged Henry to speak to Jo before leaving which Henry had refused. Abe was only willing to defend his father so far.

"Yes, he knows you know – but I'm not sure its fear exactly that made him go"

Walking over the table she sat opposite, taking Abe's hands in hers she looked at him unwaveringly.

"I don't know if I believe him, but the fact that I don't completely _disbelieve_ must count for something", she leaned in closer "please Abe, tell me where your father has gone".

It took nearly three hours of driving outside of city lines before Jo arrived at the trail leading to the small cottage, hidden within the dense woodland. She walked along what Abe had called a path, she however, thought Abe was being overly generous; the thing she stumbled along to find the building was overgrown and muddy, barely visible. From the first stubbing on of her toe she cursed Henry to the arrival at the front door.

Standing before the building the confidence began to leech out of her body. She knocked whilst briefly reviewing her plan. Within seconds of this thought she realised she had not planned anything; the situation was so unique that no combination of words or action would be able to fully manage the situation.

She knocked, no answer, she waited.

She knocked again, no answer. By the fourth time her concern had overridden any self-doubt. She pushed slightly against the door; the old wood creaked in protest, yet yielded further as she insisted.

The room was dark. On entering she was unable to make out any form. A chilled breeze ran through.

"Henry?" peering in closer, leaning further "Henry?"

As the moment deepened she was able to make out outlines, a stuffed armchair, small kitchen area and what appeared to be a bed pushed into the corner of the room. Abe had mentioned that the cabin was small; he had not advised her that that it was essentially one room, roughly divided into sections by furniture placement.

Becoming braver, she walked directly into the middle of the room. "Henry if you are here, you need to answer me!" no more cowering with confusion, she would have this out with Henry in a mature fashion. She would have done that, except Henry wasn't there.

"Damn you" she muttered. "Well I'm not leaving and I'm freezing" An open fireplace beckoned with pre cut wood stacked beside she quickly took to starting a fire to defrost her bones. She recognised that she was taking liberties, though she told herself that she had earned a few concessions given Henry's concealment of the truth.

It was half an hour later, whilst she sat curled upon the armchair, intermittently poking the fire, when the door swung open sending a chilly blast into the room.

"What the hell are you doing here!" roared a voice from behind her.

"I'm trying", she calmly replied realising that Henry would have no idea of who would be sitting in the chair "to find my partner, any idea where he might be?"

Henry stood, wide mouthed and for once at a loss for words.

"But….?"

"Abe"

"Abraham!"

"Your _son_ it seems is a tad more forthcoming than you"

"Jo, I …I didn't expect you here"

"I assumed as much, given that you ran away before I was discharged"

At this he hung his head slightly, still remaining frozen to the single spot in the room, unable to advance or retreat. Without raising his head he mumbled, "I didn't run away"

"Henry", Jo had no qualms about moving, and quickly swung her legs from the chair to stand in front of him "you waited until I was in a coma, told me your biggest secret and then you ran away, No", she reached for his arm as he went to turn "you are not going to leave again". She continued to hold him until he begrudgingly faced her.

"Good, now for God's sake can we get some lights on in here – its miserable"

Henry took to the job of lighting the various candles and lamps around the room. It didn't take long for the combination of muted lighting and open fire to make what had seemed a depressing cavern for lost souls, into an inviting, almost friendly abode.

Conversation between the two was stilted to begin, retracing his confessions, explaining her confusions. Her frustration, his fear, each discussion seemed to spiral back on a central point.

"Henry what do you want me to say, that I am 100% convinced that you are immortal"

He reached over to the knife between them, moving to run it across his throat

"Stop – No! I wont have you kill yourself in front of me, I don't care what you believe, , I wont have you hurt yourself for my benefit". She grabbed his hand, holding it still then pressing it down onto the table.

"Then there is no way for you to really understand, you will continue to think I am insane. I find that an impossible scenario"

"Impossible for what Henry", she considered her words before moving forward. "I realised whilst I was in hospital, when it was clear you weren't coming back, that I …. missed you"

He looked up towards her, meeting her eyes for the first time. Soft, dark, determined eyes unwavering in their commitment to heal the fractures to their relationship.

"I didn't know if what you had said was a dream, a crazy fiction to distract me, all I knew is that you were no longer there and that more than anything else hurt me" at this she pulled her arms back across her body, a feint shade of red crept over her cheeks. "Its sort of funny in a way, before you, after Sean there was nothing, I was nothing"

Henry turned, concerned, brows slightly furrowed.

"I mean I felt nothing, I had turned off. I went to work, did my job, went home and occasionally" at this she paused estimating what his response may be "I took a man home, just to feel something, even if it was only to feel angry at myself for my choices"

"Jo I didn't.."

"Don't say you didn't know, you saw me on the day we met – even I realised that I looked a state. I'd been out the night before, drinking, trying to forget. You saw straight through me, on the first day we met you understood me more than my closest friends" sipping her tea, she slipped deeper into what had become her own personal confession. "Hanson was worried, he tried to intervene, had me over for dinner a few times. He even picked me up a few nights when I was too drunk to get home, I genuinely believe I wanted to die"

Her honesty reached into Henry's heart, gripping it tightly, pulling it towards her. He shifted closer, bringing her into to his side. His arm now wrapped around her shoulders. He briefly remembered a snowy evening in what seemed too long ago.

"Then you came along, you didn't even realise what you were doing", she turned her head, not realising how close his face was now to hers "you were just so….so Henry, you were blunt, and weird and … and…accepting, its like you knew the path I was choosing, and you didn't judge me or try to change me"

Previous discussion in relation to her scepticism of his condition had drifted into the background of her current revelations.

"Jo I understood you, I understand you, because I have been you, except unlike you I did die – many times and often because I just did not care enough to try to live. After Abigail", he pulled her tighter "after Abigail it was only Abe's determination that saved me from whatever hell I was creating for myself".

She shuffled closer into his grip; it felt safe and calm, like being in the eye of a storm.

"We are both pretty messed up" he nodded his head in agreement, yet remained silent, thinking over his years immediately after Abigail had disappeared, how many times he had not only gone to the brink, but wholeheartedly thrown himself into the ravine. He shuddered a little at his self-centeredness at how those actions impacted upon his son.

For a short time they both sat, wrapped in their own memories of people gone and actions taken. Jo finally broke the moment by pushing herself slightly away, yet close enough to still reach Henry's face with her fingers.

"Its you that matters to me, your condition or whatever it is, made you who you are, and who you are somehow got inside and saved a part of me, I don't want to lose that"

"But if you can't believe.." his voiced trailed off.

"Can it be enough for now, for this moment that I don't think you're crazy, that I'm not running from the room, that I'm actually", she ran her fingers along his cheek, memorising every minute detail of his features "that I'm actually happy that you are here, with me"

He reached up and gently brushed her hair, leaning his forehead into hers.

"Yes", he whispered "its enough"


End file.
